A few weeks ago, I decided to renew my U.S. passport. Though it was several months away from expiration, I was advised by a customs & immigration officer that it would be a good idea to renew as much as three months ahead of time. I went to the photo shop next door and paid a ridiculous sum of money for the predictably poor 2”x 2” required photos. Though I had briefly considered renewing my passport by mail, when I read up on the procedure, I realized that I would have been required to surrender my old passport. Under no circumstances could I see myself handing my passport over to Canada Post, who it seems raise their postal rates monthly, and in inverse proportion to the service they provide. With so much talk in the news about identity theft, I didn’t feel right about surrendering my valid passport to any postal system, be it registered mail, overnight delivery, or pony express. Therefore, bright and early one frigid Tuesday morning, I rode my bicycle down to the U.S. Consulate to renew in person, existing passport and overpriced photos in hand. Oblivious as I am to the post-9-11 era of security – keep in mind that neither Shauna nor I have been on a plane in over ten years – it never occurred to me that there might be heightened security involved in this venture.
The first problem I encountered occurred before I even entered the front door of the consulate. A very serious looking security officer told me that no cell phones or electronic devices of any kind were permitted in the building. As I had on my person my electronic organizer and my cell phone, with no car in which to lock them up, I stuck them in my gloves and hid those in my bicycle helmet, which I then locked to the bike. I suppose someone could have stolen them, but at least the items were out of plain sight, and both devices are password protected. Relieved of my electronic devices, I was permitted to enter the building, where I immediately underwent an X-ray, and a rather comprehensive body scan. No cavity search? Piece of cake! Next, I was told to go down the hall and take the elevator to the third floor. That sounded simple enough, but when I walked down the hall, I saw a line of at least one hundred foreign-looking people waiting anxiously. Thankfully, that was the line for political refugees and other wannabe North Americans. I did not need to wait in that line. I then came to another security checkpoint, and they led me through another locked door and into a room with even more people waiting to be seen. Next, I was ushered through yet another locked door (I was by now beginning to feel like I was living out one of my numerous frustration dreams), through another checkpoint, and finally to a little room with an elevator. It was very odd to be waiting in a small, secured room, simply to take an elevator. After I got off the elevator on the third floor, I was greeted by yet another security officer who let me though yet another locked door, and finally, into the passport room. I waited in line for a few minutes to be informed by the expressionless lady to “Take a number, go over there, pick up a renewal form , fill it out, then wait for your number to be called.” No “have a nice day” or nothin’. When I followed her instructions, I noticed that I was now in another room filled with applicants. There were two seemingly identical forms on a table and, of course, I filled out the wrong one. Neither form had the word “Renewal” on it, and there were no clear instructions (and no one to ask without waiting in line again) directing me to use one form or the other. Was this a test … had I already failed?
In fact, the form I did fill out seemed to address renewals in some vague and ambiguous way. I found out my mistake when my number was called and the expressionless lady with no personality berated me for my stupidity. She didn’t actually use the word “stupid”, but her actions strongly implied that she thought I was a cretin.
The rest of the experience was textbook bureaucratic foolishness – go to this booth, then go to that booth, no the other “that” booth dummy … now jump through a hoop of fire while yapping like a Yorkshire Terrier … you know, the usual government nonsense. I was reminded of the “Bring me a shrubbery” sketch from Monty Python’s “The Holy Grail”. Finally, I ended up back with the expressionless lady, who punched a bunch of holes in my perfectly good passport, stamped it “cancelled” and told me she was done with me. Thankfully, exiting was much easier than entering. When I got back to my bicycle, my organizer and phone were still there. Cynic that I am, it briefly occurred to me that, if they are so concerned about security, perhaps no vehicles should be allowed to park next to a consulate.
Given all the red tape I went through to renew in person, I might have been better off just mailing it in. After all my efforts to protect my identity, I realized that the new passport would be arriving by mail anyhow. The good news is that, about four days after I made the renewal application, my new passport arrived by Fed-Ex. With its watermarks and holograms, and special paper, the new passport looks as if it would be difficult to forge. I’ll bet that when I next renew in ten years, passports will be entirely different. Perhaps by then, technology will render paper passports obsolete, and citizenship will be determined by retinal scans, fingerprint identification, or perhaps even DNA testing. As with all technology, someone will then figure out a way to undermine it and to do something evil with it. Then again, perhaps evil will be rendered obsolete.
One final observation related to the above-mentioned exercise: I think it’s time America changed her national anthem. Even if one CAN sing, which, judging from the last hockey game I attended, clearly most of us cannot, the American National Anthem is a horrible tune, which is difficult to sing, and includes too many references to violence. While I understand that freedom comes at a cost, and that brave men and women have lost their lives to protect my freedom, I think it’s time to downplay references to “the rockets red glare, the bombs bursting in air”, in favor of more emphasis on our love of freedom. I wonder if anybody is working on the Iraqi national anthem yet. Perhaps that is a bit premature. This passport exercise reminded me of how lucky I am to live in a (relatively) free country, and that I must never take that freedom for granted.
-Written by Jamie Openheimer c 2007 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
The first problem I encountered occurred before I even entered the front door of the consulate. A very serious looking security officer told me that no cell phones or electronic devices of any kind were permitted in the building. As I had on my person my electronic organizer and my cell phone, with no car in which to lock them up, I stuck them in my gloves and hid those in my bicycle helmet, which I then locked to the bike. I suppose someone could have stolen them, but at least the items were out of plain sight, and both devices are password protected. Relieved of my electronic devices, I was permitted to enter the building, where I immediately underwent an X-ray, and a rather comprehensive body scan. No cavity search? Piece of cake! Next, I was told to go down the hall and take the elevator to the third floor. That sounded simple enough, but when I walked down the hall, I saw a line of at least one hundred foreign-looking people waiting anxiously. Thankfully, that was the line for political refugees and other wannabe North Americans. I did not need to wait in that line. I then came to another security checkpoint, and they led me through another locked door and into a room with even more people waiting to be seen. Next, I was ushered through yet another locked door (I was by now beginning to feel like I was living out one of my numerous frustration dreams), through another checkpoint, and finally to a little room with an elevator. It was very odd to be waiting in a small, secured room, simply to take an elevator. After I got off the elevator on the third floor, I was greeted by yet another security officer who let me though yet another locked door, and finally, into the passport room. I waited in line for a few minutes to be informed by the expressionless lady to “Take a number, go over there, pick up a renewal form , fill it out, then wait for your number to be called.” No “have a nice day” or nothin’. When I followed her instructions, I noticed that I was now in another room filled with applicants. There were two seemingly identical forms on a table and, of course, I filled out the wrong one. Neither form had the word “Renewal” on it, and there were no clear instructions (and no one to ask without waiting in line again) directing me to use one form or the other. Was this a test … had I already failed?
In fact, the form I did fill out seemed to address renewals in some vague and ambiguous way. I found out my mistake when my number was called and the expressionless lady with no personality berated me for my stupidity. She didn’t actually use the word “stupid”, but her actions strongly implied that she thought I was a cretin.
The rest of the experience was textbook bureaucratic foolishness – go to this booth, then go to that booth, no the other “that” booth dummy … now jump through a hoop of fire while yapping like a Yorkshire Terrier … you know, the usual government nonsense. I was reminded of the “Bring me a shrubbery” sketch from Monty Python’s “The Holy Grail”. Finally, I ended up back with the expressionless lady, who punched a bunch of holes in my perfectly good passport, stamped it “cancelled” and told me she was done with me. Thankfully, exiting was much easier than entering. When I got back to my bicycle, my organizer and phone were still there. Cynic that I am, it briefly occurred to me that, if they are so concerned about security, perhaps no vehicles should be allowed to park next to a consulate.
Given all the red tape I went through to renew in person, I might have been better off just mailing it in. After all my efforts to protect my identity, I realized that the new passport would be arriving by mail anyhow. The good news is that, about four days after I made the renewal application, my new passport arrived by Fed-Ex. With its watermarks and holograms, and special paper, the new passport looks as if it would be difficult to forge. I’ll bet that when I next renew in ten years, passports will be entirely different. Perhaps by then, technology will render paper passports obsolete, and citizenship will be determined by retinal scans, fingerprint identification, or perhaps even DNA testing. As with all technology, someone will then figure out a way to undermine it and to do something evil with it. Then again, perhaps evil will be rendered obsolete.
One final observation related to the above-mentioned exercise: I think it’s time America changed her national anthem. Even if one CAN sing, which, judging from the last hockey game I attended, clearly most of us cannot, the American National Anthem is a horrible tune, which is difficult to sing, and includes too many references to violence. While I understand that freedom comes at a cost, and that brave men and women have lost their lives to protect my freedom, I think it’s time to downplay references to “the rockets red glare, the bombs bursting in air”, in favor of more emphasis on our love of freedom. I wonder if anybody is working on the Iraqi national anthem yet. Perhaps that is a bit premature. This passport exercise reminded me of how lucky I am to live in a (relatively) free country, and that I must never take that freedom for granted.
-Written by Jamie Openheimer c 2007 ALL RIGHTS RESERVED
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